


Lion and Hawk

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Series: Knight Tales [3]
Category: Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Plot What Plot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:32:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catching the hawk does not mean you get to keep it, or does it...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lion and Hawk

With practiced ease and a healthy dose of frustration behind his strokes, Sir Sean put the whetstone to his blade. Sparks would have been flying if the constant downpour of rain hadn’t doused them as thoroughly as it doused any kind of conversation between the men huddled around the two smoldering campfires.

The last weeks had been an exercise in frustration for Sir Sean. One should believe that he was slowly getting used to it by now but instead it was boiling inside him, just waiting for an excuse to erupt in violence.

And it had all started quite fine. Sir Sean had been genuinely happy for the boy when his Squire had been accepted into knighthood about a month ago. After all, he had worked hard at securing the queen's favor for the fine young man. Sean was sure that he would do well.

What he had not expected back then was that he wouldn't be able to find a new squire right away. None of the noble boys who had been available had seemed as capable and patient as his last squire and he had found himself finding faults in every single one of them.

Still he was reasonably sure that he would have found one to suit him given more time.

But the queen had seen fit to saddle him with a mission. A 'quest' as a younger knight might proudly have called it. To go to the north and hunt down the bandits who were ransacking monasteries and waylaying coaches on the road.

When he had been younger himself, he would have enjoyed the chance to get out of London, to find adventure and glory.

Now he just yearned for his comfortable townhouse in London, for a warm dinner in his favorite chair, for a pipe and a glass of brandy at the fireplace. And of course for his own bed.

With a deep sigh, Sir Sean rubbed his beard. He really was getting old.

Maybe he shouldn't even take another squire to train for knighthood. Maybe some servant would suit an aging man like him better.

At least he would be heading home come morning. After searching this godforsaken wilderness for two weeks, this afternoon they had finally rooted out the camp of the bandits.

And to Sir Sean's great relief it had not been highlanders like he had feared. It happened often that the Scotsmen - overburdened with taxes and the irresponsible behavior of their English overlords - lost what little patience they possessed to begin with and came raiding to the south to regain some coins and dignity.

Sean would have hated to see such men hanged, as he could not begrudge them their righteous anger. But the bandits they had ambushed and fought this afternoon had just been the usual lot of penniless losers who couldn't get by with honest means. Those who had not died in the fight had been hanged only a few yards from their own camp.

Some of Sir Sean's men had complained that they would not gain any glory, not bringing back any prisoners to the next town where the local earl had his seat of power. Probably a younger knight would have been swayed by their complaints. But dragging prisoners through the wilderness meant only trouble to Sean. They would have to be fed, guarded and in the end, they would have been hanged anyway.

So now, his men were not only grumpy because of the miserable weather but also because they had been denied their moment of glory. They had been giving him sour looks all evening and Sean, by now, felt ready to skewer someone with his freshly sharpened sword.

With a slight growl, he finished his work and put away the whetstone, then sheathed his blade and got up. Better to take a walk then to spend another minute in such company. Maybe he would come across some stray bandit who he could stick his sword into.

He drew his woolen cloak closer around his shoulder, trying to keep the rain from dripping into his armor. His back felt stiff from sleeping on the bare ground for two weeks and the wetness seemed to make every single one of his old scars ache.

Maybe he shouldn't even look for a servant. Maybe he would be better off retiring from active duty and withdrawing to his manor in Sussex. To live out his remaining years in comfort and dignity.

Even when the rain finally stopped and the clouds receded to reveal a sky dotted with countless stars, Sir Sean's mood didn't improve.

He was so lost in his dark thoughts that he almost missed the snap of a twig behind him. Almost - but not quite.

With reflexes trained over three decades and - despite all his misgivings - not dulled by age at all he whirled around with his sword drawn and paired the blow that had been aimed at his head.

What really surprised him was when his blade cut clean through the thing he had been attacked with and he nearly lost his footing on the sleek ground.

It was too dark to really make out his quickly moving assailant but when the figure twisted away, Sean lunged forward, his sword raised for a killing blow, all the frustration finally finding a target.

But his opponent was not as sure-footed as Sir Sean. Slipping on the wet ground, falling and raising his arms to fend of a blow that would at least have crippled him - none of those moves by his attacker would have stopped Sean.

"Nay! Mercy!" a heavily accented voice begged right at the moment before the sword fell and Sean managed to curb his blow. If there was one thing a knight was not supposed to do, it was to kill a foe who has yielded.

Sean twisted his blade and pointed it to where he could vaguely make out the man's face. Now that he was concentrating on the figure on the ground he was able to make out a lean body, dressed in what he quickly recognized to be a traditional Scottish kilt and tunic. Which matched the Scottish accent.

"Back your pardon, kind sir," he man continued talking and simultaneously tried to scramble backward, away from the blade, "I was mistaken you. There's bandits in these parts, you know?"

Sir Sean raised an eyebrow at that outrageous lie and let his sword's point follow. Whoever went about attacking bandits in the middle of the night but another bandit?

"Better speak truthfully, lad, or I will have to stick this sword in you yet." he threatened, hoping that this was not one of the bandits they had overlooked. For if it was he would likely be sent to Scotland next to punish some peasants just for good measure.

"I... uh..." The voice sounded rather young, now that Sir Sean was paying close attention and was sadly lacking a believable excuse.

Sir Sean was half of a mind to simply allow the young Scotsman to escape when a soft neighing a bit to his left caught his attention and moment later a horse stepped out of the underbrush, nuzzling Sean shoulder amiably.

"Cecily?!" Sean stared at his very own mare in a mix of outrage and astonishment. The beast was known through all of London for her foul spirit.

The horse looked back at him with her huge brown eyes as if nothing was out of the ordinary when she should have been safely tied with the other horses.

Sir Sean was so caught by his horse's sudden appearance that his prisoner almost managed to wiggle away. Scrambling backwards with surprising agility the young man was disappearing into the underbrush when Sean looked down at him again.

Sean was presented with the options of either skewering him with the sword or dropping the sword and try to grab him. With a low curse, he let go of his blade and jumped after him, tackling him on the wet ground. For a moment they wrestled, rolling in the mud till Sean finally managed to press the young man face first into the dirt, twisting his arm painfully up his back.

The Scotsman yelped in pain and went still immediately.

"Mercy, kind sir, mercy!" he begged again and Sean could not suppress a grin at the ready submission of the boy. He by now guessed that it didn't mean anything to the proud Scottish heart he felt beating furiously beneath him.

"Do you know what they do to a horse thief?" he asked, leaning lower so his mouth was close to the young man's ear. "And to one who steals from a knight on top?"

He felt the shudder that ran through the lithe body beneath him and caught the sharp intake of breath. So, the boy had had no idea whose horse he was leading away.

"Mercy, sir." he repeated, this time sounding a lot more sincere and a lot more frightened.

"I'm of a mind to hang you right next to your companions..." Sean commented, twisting the arm some more, feeling a pleasant shivering run down his spine as the muscles of the young man tightened in all the right ways.

"Those scum are not my companions!" The Scotsman spat, fury in his voice - and for a moment he tried again to break free, only to whimper in pain again when Sean increased the pressure on the arm.

"So what are you doing out here, stealing my horse?!" Sir Sean growled right back, putting a healthy dose of menace into his own voice.

This time the boy remained stubbornly quiet till Sean yanked on the arm again.

"I just wanted to get home!" he then blurted out.

That at least had sounded sincere, even if it didn't make much sense.

"So?" Sean pressed him.

"Those bastards took me with them from my village cause they wanted a guide who knew his way about the highlands... so they'd have a retreat." the young man muttered, the fight finally leaving his body. "I got away when the soldiers attacked the camp... just wanted to go home..."

He sounded heart-wrenchingly defeated although Sir Sean was not entirely sure how much of that was just for show.

"So you went and stole my horse? How on earth did you get her to follow you anyway? She's a beast!"

The boy tried to shrug, then thought better of it. "I know my way with horses, kind sir." he said, regaining some of his composure. "I beg forgiveness, sir. I swear, I will never touch a horse again, if you just let me go... please...?"

The last word was presented in such a sweet, begging tone that Sean blinked at his captive in surprise. There certainly were quite some interesting sides to this boy.

"And why would I just let you walk away, lad?" Sir Sean asked, slightly amused. "Still seems to me I should hang you from the next tree."

"Well..." there was a short pause which the young man obviously used to think hard on his options. "I guess it can get pretty lonely for a strong, courageous knight like you, kind sir, all by yourself with just them soldiers to keep you company..." he then purred. 

Sir Sean stared at him in consternation as the boy in all seriousness rubbed his ass against Sean where he was pinned to the ground.

"Are you offering what I think you do?" he asked, slightly breathless, and to his own surprise - rather aroused by the thought of taking that agile young body, right here and now.

"It'd be an honor to be of service, kind sir." the Scotsman purred, continuing to press back against Sean.

The words seemed to shoot straight to his cock, hardening him almost instantly, even though Sir Sean doubted that the youth had any other reason than simple survival for his offer. Reviewing the last few weeks, his honor and morale and the feeling of delicious friction against his cock Sir Sean tried to come to a decision. And no matter how hard he tried, he just seemed incapable of turning the boy down.

Still using his weight and one hand to keep the Scotsman pinned to the ground, he used his other hand to feel up the tense body. He noted quite pleased how practical a kilt was in this particular situation as he just pushed up the piece of clothing like he would have done with a lass' skirt.

He was even more pleased when he realized the young man was wearing nothing underneath and his hand came it contact with the smooth skin of a firm ass.

The Scotsman tried to shift into a more comfortable position but then winced in pain as Sir Sean still held his arm twisted. A shiver of excitement ran through Sean as he felt that ass tense under his hand.

"You better make up your mind, lad, cause if this goes any further there will be no stopping." he said, running a hungry hand over the exposed skin.

"It will be a pleasure, sir." that accented voice answered immediately but it didn't sound too believable. In fact, Sean would have sworn that it was said through gritted teeth.

A slow grin spread on Sir Sean's face. A pleasure indeed. He would make sure that the boy enjoyed this encounter just as much as he would himself.

He used the twisted arm as a handle to pull the young man up onto his knees, then for a moment fumbled with his breeches, fighting to get them open with one hand.

When his cock sprang free of its confines it smacked around the boy's ass, making both of them jump, one startled, the other at the jolt of pleasure.

As there was nothing else available, Sir Sean spit in his hand to wet his fingers, then tried to push one into the tight hole presented to him. The boy tensed up even more but Sean kept up a persistent pressure till he slipped inside.

"Have you done this before, lad?" Sir Sean asked as he heard a groan from the Scotsman.

"Aye, sir." come the reply, this time somewhat muffled and laced with suppressed pain.

"You still wanna go on?" Sean asked again.

"Aye, sir." Still there was pain in the voice and the body beneath Sean shuddered as he worked his finger in deeper then withdrew a bit to renew his invasion.

"Try to relax, lad, you are only making this harder for yourself," he coaxed, "it will get better soon."

"If the kind sir would let go of my damned arm, relaxing would be a hell of a lot easier." the young man ground out.

"You promise you'll behave?" Sir Sean pushed in harder, starting to slowly fuck the boy with his finger, thoroughly enjoying the tightness, imagining how it would feel on his cock.

"Aye, sir." The boy nodded his head.

Sir Sean wasn't really inclined to believe that but he was quite sure that he would be able to keep his captive under control. He released the arm and the boy immediately used it to brace himself better on the slippery ground. Then drew in a deep breath, obviously trying hard to do as Sean had told him.

Sean felt some of the tension leave the body and used the opportunity to insert a second finger, scissoring inside the boy to stretch him for what was to come. The urge just to shove his cock inside that tight heat was nearly overwhelming.

He knew the boy was barely ready for him, when he withdrew his fingers and positioned his cock at the entrance. Moving slowly he pressed his tip inside, drawing another muffled sound of pain from his captive.

Again keeping up the pressure he pushed forward, slowly sinking his whole length inside.

Several low curses escaped the young man he was mounting, completed by a small sigh of relief when Sean was at last fully imbedded in the gripping tightness of the other's ass.

Drawing in a deep breath himself, Sir Sean just stayed like that - not so much to allow the boy to get used to the feeling of fullness but to enjoy the feeling as the boy's muscles clenched around him, squeezing his cock.

Knowing full well that his captive was expecting a hard fucking, he then leaned forward to reach around the lithe body kneeling beneath his and wrapped his hand around the other limp cock.

The young man gave a small yelp of surprise and bucked back into Sir Sean, involuntarily driving himself deeper onto Sean's cock. Sean groaned in pleasure and started pumping the cock in his hand, still remaining unmoving.

Soon his stroking showed an effect as the Scotsman's cock grew hard as well and he started moaning in something that didn't sound like pain at all. When he started humping back against Sean, basically fucking himself with the knight's cock deep in his ass, Sean was sure that he had the boy right where he wanted him.

He started thrusting into the now receptive body, keeping his thrusts in time with his hand still moving on the other's cock.

He was rewarded with a low, keening cry as his captive threw back his head in pleasure.

Quickening both his thrust and his pumping Sean fucked hard now, reveling in the feeling of being alive, being strong, being in absolute control. His earlier thoughts of retirement and uselessness completely forgotten.

His captive kept up with him, his hot body meeting him on every thrust, whimpering and moaning in pleasure.

All too soon Sir Sean felt himself grow tense as he was approaching his peak and he jerked the other even harder to bring him off as well.

Only a few more savage thrust and then he spilled his seed deep inside the hot ass, feeling its muscles clench around him as the boy climaxed too, his hot cum covering Sean's hand.

With a low groan, the boy collapsed beneath Sir Sean, shaking slightly. Obviously, this had been a lot better than he had feared.

Sean withdrew from him and then gave that firm ass a smack.

Maybe life wasn't so bad after all.

By the time he had retied his breeches the young man was coming back to his senses too.

He turned around and for the first time Sean could make out a bit more of him. He was barely out of his teens and quite a looker. Red-blonde hair that came down nearly to his shoulders framed a dirty face. And then he put on the cutest smile Sir Sean had seen in all his life.

"It was a pleasure being of service, sir." he said, and this time he obviously meant it. "Can I go now?"

Sir Sean grinned and there must have been something predatory showing through in that grin as the boy's smile wavered.

"What's your name, lad?" he asked

"Ewan, sir, of Clan McGregor." the boy answered, his smile disappearing and fear showing in his eyes.

"Well, Ewan, it seems to be your lucky day. Not only will I not have you hanged for stealing my horse. I am in need of a new squire. And guess who it's gonna be..."


End file.
